


Battlement

by Plajus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Amputee, Angst, M/M, PTSD, Romance, Soldier Jake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2186919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plajus/pseuds/Plajus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day that Jake is sent across seas for his job in the army, Dirk becomes a single parent to his baby brother Dave. Now he's alone without his best friend, struggling to raise and support a baby on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battlement

I felt so numb. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t real, and that my whole life up until that point was a lie. The police were trying to control the scene and I was glaring at the crib in the corner. My little brother was asleep though. I fucking hated him.

One of the officers said my name. I still faced the crib, but my eyes moved slowly. The police officer was thin and tall, looked like he was in his forties. A fat gruff one had been bothering me earlier, and I guess they sent this guy to talk to me instead to try and get some words to come from my mouth. I decided to not be stubborn and kept staring at him, giving him my attention.

“Is that baby your brother?” he asked.

I nodded.

“What’s his name?”

My eyes moved, looking towards the living room where other officers were zipping up a body bag.

“Dirk?”

I looked back at my interview. Answered, “Dave.”

“All right. Can you tell me what happened?”

I was too dead inside to be hurting. So I told him.

Dad started drinking again, came home drunk. Threatened to kill my little brother. Mom defended him, shoved him, told him to back off. They were screaming, Dave was crying. Dad beat Mom. He shoved her, TV fell on her, died. I stood there. Dave was crying. Dad freaked out. Went to the window, jumped.

The police officer was writing things down, and I think he was recording our conversation. I imagined other agents down below the apartment building, scraping my father’s splattered remains off the sidewalk.

“You’ll be eighteen in a few weeks,” the interview said.

I said nothing.

“I can hold back procedures involving your brother until that time. Then you can claim legal guardianship of him.”

“I don’t want him.”

“Hmm?”

“Take him. Put him in a foster home, let some bible thumpers adopt him. I don’t want him.”

I looked at the crib. Dave was still sleeping. I hated him. Mom loved him, idolized him, and Dad stopped beating me and stopped drinking, all for the baby. And now they were both dead. And it was that fucking baby’s fault. I hated him.

“Do you mean that?” the officer asked.

“Just take the little shit,” I snapped.

The interviewer left me alone. Everyone was busy with the body and getting more evidence. I stood up and dragged myself towards the crib, leaning on the edge as if my body were as heavy as steel. Dave was still sleeping, his small chest moving with little breaths. His face was stained with tears. He had literally cried himself to exhaustion. 

My cell phone was ringing in my pocket. I was imagining what it’d be like to kill that damned little brother of mine while I flipped the phone open and held it to my ear. I said nothing, just waited.

“Dirk?”

I haven’t cried at all. My face was completely dry. But hearing him made my eyes sting. 

“Hey,” I breathed out.

“Hey, what’s going on? I heard some rumors of jibber-jabber that your apartment building is just crawling with police and detectives right now!” Jake said. 

“It’s fine,” I lied. “Something went on at the neighbor’s. A fight broke out, someone got hurt. I’m fine.”

“They always were a vocal couple! Glad you’re a-okay.”

I’d tell him tomorrow. I’d have him over and tell him everything. He was my best friend. He’d let me cry in his arms and he’d come over every day and help me until I felt better. That’s how Jake was. He was everything to me. 

“You there?” comes his voice again. 

Dave stirs in his sleep. I sniff and reply, “Yeah. I’m here.”

“I have some good news!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m being deployed!” 

“Really?” I choked out.

“Yes! I’m leaving in a few days!” 

My heart was ripped from my chest. I dropped my forehead down on the crib railing. I said nothing.

“I’m going to another country, Dirk! I’m going to travel and see new animals and learn about a different culture. I think I’ll be back around Christmas next year, but we’ll keep in touch, all right? Goodness golly, I’m so excited!” 

I stumbled to the window. There was blood on the sidewalk below, police cars flashing colors. Jake was still going on and on about where he was going to go, things he was going to do. My first tear ran down my cheek. 

“How about we not keep in touch?” I said, interrupting Jake’s rant.

“What? Why wouldn’t we? We’ve been best friends for years, Dirk! I want to call you every week I’m away and tell you everything. I want to hear about you, too. I want to know how Dave is while growing up.” 

I scoffed, almost laughing. “No. No, you’ll be gone. You’ll find some nice foreign girl and you’ll fall in love and adopt Chinese kids and you’re never going to call me again. Or get killed from gunfire, or an explosion. Maybe a suicide bomber will drop in and land right in the middle of your unit. Just go have fun on your trip, Jake.” I took a deep breath, trying to sound more honest to him. “You fight and do what you want and don’t even worry or think about me back home… Okay?”

“Dirk… Dirk, stop. You can’t do that.”

“I’m proud of you, English. I really am.”

“Dirk, please—”

“I love you.”

I hung up. He called me again, but I ignored it. I tried not to worry when he ended up joining the military a while ago, didn’t think he’d actually leave. I just thought he’d walk around in a uniform and train. Not actually… go. If he knew what happened to my parents, he’d want to stay in a heartbeat to take care of me. I couldn’t ruin his dreams. Couldn’t stop them and crush them. I had to let him go. And that hurt so much, it covered my hate. 

Besides, he didn’t even know how over the top fucking in love I was with him. He was weird, and stupid, but he was also a genius. And someone who did their best to understand me when no one else would. When my dad used to hurt me, before Dave was born, I would go to Jake’s place where he lived with his grandmother in the middle of the night, usually with a bloody nose or a bruise. He would clean me up and we’d lie on his bed together all night, and he would tell me stories. 

I suddenly felt more alone than I had ever felt. 

Behind me, I heard Dave screaming. I turned around, saw a police officer handing my little brother over so a lady in a dress suit with pinned up hair. She was here to take him away. The officer was signing things on a clipboard while the agent was trying to bounce Dave up and down to calm him. 

I took a few steps towards them and held my hand out. “Don’t.”

She looked at me as if I were a broken mutant animal. 

“What?” she said.

“Don’t. Don’t bounce him.”

“Babies like being bounced,” she explained simply.

“He doesn’t,” I practically hissed. “He doesn’t like being bounced, stop it.”

“What does he like?” 

I held my hands out. She still stared at me as if I were going to kill him. So I waited. Then she gave me my brother. I never used to hold him often, but I watched Mom hold him, watched how they interacted. 

I took Dave away to a corner of the room while he was still crying. I dragged a blanket off the couch. I sat in the corner, back to the walls, then draped the blanket over Dave and I so that we were in the darkness. Mom used to just talk to him. She never sang. She would just chat, and Dave seemed to be lulled by it. 

“So, Mom and Dad are dead,” I said to him. 

He kept whimpering. I thought nothing of it as I wiped my sleeve on his pudgy face, soaking up the tears and snot. 

“I was going to fucking give you away,” I scoffed. “I’m sorry she bounced you, I know you hate that. I wouldn’t like it either. I mean, you hung out in a womb for nine months, and I’m pretty sure Mom didn’t hop around while you were in there. That’d be stupid. Hey now, no crying, lil’ man. It’s just you and me here in the dark. Don’t you worry… You’re not going anywhere. So… Jake is leaving. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. Psh, no, I’m not crying, dude. Don’t look at me like that. It’ll be just us, and we’ll kick ass together, all right? Dry eyes now, kiddo. Dry eyes.”

He kept gasping in my lap, but he wasn’t crying anymore. There was a bit of light streaming in, showing his bright red eyes. He had Mom’s eyes, just brighter. For a second, it was like I was looking at her. I fucking missed her. 

When Dave calmed down, I stood up and kept the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, cradling Dave in my arms. I gave him his pacifier, and he rested his head on my shoulder, breaths coming out from his nose and against my neck. I approached the officer who was still signing things on the clipboard and put my hand on it. 

“I want him,” I said.

“You said—”

“I know what I said. I changed my mind. I’ll take custody of him. I want him.”

“Kid, he’s… barely a year old. You’ll be here alone, only with government money for so long. You’ll need money for a babysitter.” 

“You’re not taking him!” 

The social worker sighed and tried to put a hand on my arm, but I pulled away.

“Sweetie, he’ll have a better life with another family,” she said. “Three meals a day, a good education, other kids to live with.”

“I didn’t hear love in there. I didn’t hear visitation rights in there. I’m his fucking brother, and you’re NOT taking him.” 

She seemed startled by my language. She opened her mouth for another type of protest, but the officer simply gave the lady her clipboard back and said, “What he says goes.” He looked at me, and then at Dave who’s little arms were clutched around my neck. “I’ll point you to someone who can help.” 

“Thank you…” 

 

A week later, an old lady came to my apartment with supplies. I told her I didn’t need help, told her to go away. 

She’s the only woman to ever not be frightened by me.

She shoved right into my home, introduced herself as just “Nanna.” She took over my kitchen, started making some type of dinner without even asking me. She said she heard about what happened to me and Dave and has made it her new priority in life to help me get started in my solo “motherhood.” 

Dave sat in my lap, shaking a little plastic ninja doll. I stayed at the table, watching Nanna cook some type of rice with chicken. Once I got over the annoyance of having this chick take over my house, I calmed down and started talking to her. 

“How old is he?” she asked, stirring a big pot.

“Almost a year,” I replied. 

“You two look alike.” 

“Yeah, we do.”

“How old are you?” 

“I’ll be eighteen in a week.” 

“Did you ever help you mommy take care of little David?” 

I shrugged. “Not much.”

“How many bottles have you been giving him?”

“I don’t know, whenever he takes them.”

She huffs a sigh, turning to look at me with those bright, bright blue eyes, wrinkled hands on her hips. “Oh, Dirk. I see you’re really going to need my help. I’ll be over every other day, all right? I’ll teach you all the ropes until you’re taking care of that baby like a real mommy!”

“Um, you really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense! Now shush and get that little guy into his high chair.” 

I simply obeyed, putting Dave into his high chair. His lip shook, and he was about to cry from being separated from me, but I stayed at the table by him and allowed him to hold my finger. 

“I have a grandson who’s a baby,” Nanna said. 

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm! He’s a little guy. Look’s like his daddy, my son. Maybe your brother and my grandson will be good friends!”

“Maybe.”

 

True to her word, Nanna came every other day. Taught me to cook, taught me when to feed Dave, how to change him, how to make a proper bottle for him. We shared a birthday, and Nanna was the only one who came to celebrate with us. 

I eventually got a job working at a gas station, and Nanna took care of Dave while I was away. Some days she was taking care of her grandson, too. Dave and little John took quite a liking to each other, and I had to pry the little guy off his buck-toothed friend when I came to pick him up. 

I learned to be a good “mommy” as Nanna puts it. Dave grew up, and I gave him swords to play with whenever the old lady wasn’t around to nag at me about how dangerous it is. She snapped at me when I swore around him too. But Dave was growing up well. He said his first word eventually. “Bo.” I think he was saying bro though, and it brought the biggest smile to my face. To celebrate his word, I bought him anime shades like mine. 

Nanna said I was too attached. She forced me to move Dave into a different room so that he won’t grow up dependant on me for every little thing. That one day he won’t always have me watching him.

That scared me. I laid in bed that night, listening to him scream and cry from the other room. Nanna told me to not give in, that he would tire himself out eventually. But it was horrible. He kept screaming, “Bo! Bo!” I could hear the squeaking of his crib as he jumped up and down, shaking the railing. 

It took an hour. But he stopped. He slept, and finally, so did I. 

 

Around the time Dave turned five, Nanna died. I didn’t know what to do without her. My real mother was a good mother, but Nanna was another mom to me. At the funeral, I met Mr. Egbert for the first time. His blue-eyed son was crying in his arms.

Dave kept asking me about death on the way home from the funeral. He kept asking where Nanna was now, and if she was going to come back, and why she had been sleeping in that box at the wake. I was so lost on what to tell him. So I tried to say that her body didn’t work anymore. But her soul was in a happy place. 

“Where’s the happy place?” he asked. 

I wrung my hands on the steering wheel. I wasn’t a believer in God, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be. So I replied, “Heaven. It’s where people go when they die. They’re very happy there.”

“Nanna is happy?”

“She’s very happy.”

“Can I still see John?”

“Of course. You’ll go to school with him, remember?”

He decided he was happy with this and looked out the window from his booster seat in the back of the car, drinking from his sippy cup full of apple juice. 

 

I thank the lord Nanna came to my rescue. Raising Dave was easier, although some parts were still bumpy and confusing. Field trips for school, show and tell days, odd supplies to buy for projects. Insurance and so many other legal backup things necessary for raising a child.

When Dave turned eight, money got really bad. I stopped eating and gave Dave anything I could muster up to find. The only real meals he got were the free lunches at school. I highly considered calling CPS to take him away. At least he'd have food. I even asked him if he wanted to leave, so that he wouldn't be hungry anymore. He refused. I couldn't get another job anywhere, couldn't give into the thought of ASKING for money.

That's when I had to give in and resort to the last thing on my list. I hated myself for it.

I took Dave to Mr. Egbert's and held out only ten bucks. It was all I had. I asked him to babysit, just for a few hours. He pushed the money back against me and let Dave run into his home to chase after John who had been watching TV. I thanked him more times than I needed to, then left.

I had to research on the internet to learn this stuff. It took an hour of just standing there in the cold before a black car pulled up to a stop outside of the club. The guy behind the rolled down window didn't look too bad.

"How old?" he said.

I pulled my sweatshirt tighter around me from the chilly night air. "Twenty-six."

"How much?"

I almost asked him how much he had in the first place. But first I decided to lie and see how he reacted, because I had no idea how these deals worked.

"Four grand," I decided to say.

He stared at me for a long time. I think he was about to leave. To stop him, I approached his car and grabbed the edge of the window before he rolled it up. "Wait."

He stopped. Stared at me.

"I need to feed my brother. This isn't a sob story. I'm serious. Please, whatever you've got, I'll do it. You won't be sorry."

There was more silence. Then he said, "Three thousand. If it's good, you'll get another three thousand tomorrow. Deal?"

I nodded almost frantically. That much money was amazing. "Yes."

"Get it."

It wasn't too bad, I guess. It's not like the guy beat me senseless. But for that amount of money, I did anything he wanted, no matter how sick and dirty I felt after. At least he gave me a ride home when he was done with me. I had to force a disgusting smile on when I picked up Dave, and I could tell he was nervous because I was so quiet and shaky. When I put him to bed that night, he asked me to lie down with him. I did, and he let me hold him, and he didn't even question why I was crying.

The next day, after another sickening time with the same dude, I had my money. I could tell how my attitude was scaring Dave, so I took us out for a celebratory dinner at McDonalds where he spent several hours in the ballpit and made friends with other kids I didn't know.

When I actually went to work for real, and dropped Dave off with Mr. Egbert, the older man caught my arm before I left. He gave me a sad look, pulled out a checkbook, and my eyes were stinging.

"Sir, no."

"Shush." He ripped the check free and handed it to me. Four thousand dollars. "I'll give you as much as you want if it means you won't give your body away."

My eyes widened. Was it that obvious?

"I can tell how much you love him if you're willing to do that," he said. "Never do it again. And never be afraid to ask for help."

I stared at my shoes. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Egbert became a very close friend to me after that.

 

I eventually got a good job at a club doing DJ-ing, and it was enough to pay for rent and keep Dave’s belly full. He went to school, made some friends in elementary. One time his second grade teacher though he was Satan’s offspring because of his eyes and slapped him when he talked back. I got him a new teacher and sued the old one. 

One night, Dave made me talk to him. He came into my room during the night and crawled up on my bed, dragging Lil’ Cal by his long noodle arm. He nestled in quietly against my side and said, “Tell me something.”

“Go to bed.”

“Please?”

I sighed. So I told him a story. 

But Dave didn’t always come to me. Sometimes I would lie awake at night and feel this pressure on my chest, something trying to drag me down and under my bed where I hid a stack of papers. Letters from Jake. When he left, he mailed them once a week. Then once a month. He stopped after a few years. I never opened them. I wrapped them in a rubber band and hid them under my bed. I knew that if I read them, I’d fall in love with him all over again, and I would try to find him somehow, or he would break my heart, and I couldn’t have that because Dave was my top priority in life.

When the letters pulled with a gravity that hurt, I would drag my blanket and pillow to Dave’s room and sleep by his little kid bed. If he noticed I was in there, he’d tell me to share his bed with him, and I’d laugh a bit while my legs hung off the short edge.

 

When Dave was ten, he started writing his own raps. I couldn’t have been more proud. We hung out in the living room and shot some rhymes back and forth. Some of them made sense, some of them were deep, but most of the time it was funny garbage that didn’t have meaning and had us both laughing. 

In the middle of that, my phone rang. Dave shut his mouth, waiting while I looked at the caller ID. An old name showed. “Jungle Boy.” 

I didn’t want to believe it was Jake. Not after all those years. 

So I ignored the call and put my attention back on my little brother. 

 

When Dave turned thirteen, I told him about what happened to our parents. I decided he was mature enough to know and understand. He was probably thankful his shades covered his eyes, but I could tell he was tearing up. The way he was biting his lip so hard. 

I asked him if he was mad at me. For not saving our mom. He said no and gave me a short hug, which I hadn’t gotten in a long time. Then he thanked me and went to his room. I believed him. He just needed time. 

 

The apartment is cool, the AC blasting. I really hate reality TV, but it’s playing anyway. Smuppet on my left, beer bottle on my right. Life is good. 

The front door to the apartment opens and Dave gives me a greeting nod while chucking his backpack on the floor so that it hits the side of the futon where I’m sitting. 

“Sup,” he says.

“Hey. How was school?”

“Same as yesterday, but this time I think the teachers tried sucking my soul out instead of stomping on my self confidence.” 

“Damn bastards are getting tricky.” 

“They probably have a few students working for them, telling them the inner workings of a teenager so that they can worm their way into our minds. I’m telling you, Bro, all teachers want is mind control. They’ll make an army of angry teens to fight for proper pay.”

“At least make sure you’re general of that army.” 

He scoffs and moves past the TV and into the kitchen to search for food. I hear a sword clatter out of there, then hear Dave grumbling to himself about it.

“So nothing exciting happened?” I ask.

“Uhhh… John poured some water on Miss Hanlow’s chair and it looked like she pissed herself.”

“Ha! She had it coming.” 

Dave comes back in, leaning against the wall while drinking from a can of my orange soda. He makes a shrug. “Not much else. Had a visitor come to our history class. He was talking about PTSD and stuff like that. We’re learning about World War II.” 

“PTSD?”

“That post traumatic stuff, when a war fucks you up in the head.”

“Oh, yeah. Was he crazy?”

“Rude, Bro. He was cool.” He smirks, taking a swig from his can. “And hot.” 

“Egbert won’t like hearing that.”

“Dude, shut up. Egbert’s total no homo.”

“You fuckin’ kidding me? Have you seen the way he stares at you? You’re off making popcorn for movie night, and he’s here sitting on the futon with his heart eyes trying to pop out of his sockets. I thought I might have to catch him from his hardcore swoons.”

Dave doesn’t reply for a while. He fidgets with the tab on his pop can, crossing his ankles. Then he says, “Does he really?” 

“No shit. He’s an awkward kid that makes life a big joke. I don’t think he’s good at finding his inner gaylord and confessing feelings to you. So man up, make a few moves, and ask him out.”

“What if he says no?”

“Oh, so you do like him?”

“What if he says no?” he asks more sternly.

“He won’t.”

“How do you know?”

I let my shades fall down my nose, giving him a look with raised eyebrows. 

“You’re right,” he confesses. “Thanks, Bro.”

“No problem, kid. Not get that hot veteran guest out of your brain.” 

“Fine. I’m transferring the thoughts of his hot ass over to your mind for your own enjoyment. Take the English, Bro. Take it.”

I push my shades back up my nose. “Take the what?”

“English. The dude’s name.” 

“His last name?”

“Yeah. Cool, huh? Had an accent, too, and some cool scars and stuff. He got injured overseas and can’t fight anymore, so he moved back here to the city to open up some exotic pet store or something. We should go there some time. I want a pet chinchilla. Can I get a chinchilla, Bro?”

I stare at him. I’m not exactly sure what I feel.

When Dave gets no response out of me, he makes an awkward whistle and turns to leave and go to his room. I look at the TV again, and not even Snooki’s hooters are bringing any emotions out of me. I try drinking from my beer. Nope. Nothing. 

Fucking English. 

 

Dave has John over for the night. They chill in his room, and I can hear them playing Mario Kart. I’m in my own room, going through a Google search. 

Then I find the name and click it. 

The website for his business shows up. For the first time in fifteen years, I see Jake English. It’s a picture of him from the waist up, probably in his new store. He’s smiling happily, still with a slight overbite, and a huge bird of many colors perched on his forearm. He still looks thin but strong, along with a few rough spots of scars that he’s gained in the passing years.

I look up contact information on the site. It has only the store’s number, along with his cell phone number. Suddenly, my hand is in my pocket, pulling out my own cell phone. I scroll through the contacts and find “Jungle Boy.” The number on my phone matches the one on the computer screen.

My thumb hovers over the send button. Oh God, what would I even say? Fuck. Fuck, oh God, no, why did this happen, fuck him for coming back home, why—

Vvvvvvvvvrb!

Oh GOD, my phone is vibrating! 

“JUNGLE BOY.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck—” I click the green button. “—Hello?” 

“Um. Dirk?”

He sounds exactly the same. 

“Yes.”

“It’s, uh… It’s Jake. English. Remember?”

My chest feels so heavy.

“Yes. Hi. Dave told me you were in his class today.” 

“Yeah! Golly, he’s gotten so big. I remember when he was just a chubby little bundle that drooled all over your puppets.” 

I scoff with a smile, leaning on my desk. “Yeah… You’re back in town?” 

“Ah, yes, I am. Had a bad injury overseas not too long ago, so I’ve decided to come back and settle down, open up a business.”

“Dave told me about the business. He really wants a chinchilla.”

Jake laughs, and it lessens the weight on my chest. 

“Say, Dirk?” 

“Yeah?”

“I want to see you. Do you still live in the same place?”

“Top floor now.”

“When can I come?”

I look at the clock in the corner of my computer screen. Then I say, “Now.” 

 

 

“Calm down.”

“Go away.”

“Bro, your foot is shaking.” 

“Is not.”

“I can feel it through the floor, dude, you’re a tall, masculine guy, and if you keep it up, you’re going to crumble the whole apartment building to the ground. And then I won’t have a home, and we’ll have to live on the street as prostitutes. How am I going to hang out with John? The only way I’ll have playdates with him is if he buys me.”

I know Dave’s joking, but I’m freaking out. I look up at him, and then at John who’s standing next to him and giggling. 

“You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?” I say. 

The tips of Dave's ears turn red. John's whole face turns red. 

"Have fun with the short stop," Dave mumbles, turning on his heel. "C'mon, John."

"Short stop?" I ask, but Dave is already gone.

John, still red, says a goodbye to me before hurrying after his friend. As soon as Dave's bedroom door slams shut, a knocking comes at the front door. I think I'm choking on something. Wait, no, that's just my throat. Okay, Dirk, come the fuck on. You. Are a MAN. 

Being the MAN I am, I approach the door, ready to open it. Instead, I make sure I'm presentable first. Shades off, bangs swooped. Pants on. Wouldn't be the first time if I forgot those. My T-shirt doesn't have any pizza stains on it, and I make a mental note to try and get the stain out of all my other shirts too. Jake always used to pick on me for having such a messy room.

Okay. MAN, remember? Man up. I can do this.

I finally open the damn door. 

And then there's no one there? 

My eyes fall downcast. Oh. Short stop. That's what he meant. 

Jake smiles at me from the wheelchair he's sitting in. "Golly, Dirk. You got tall." 

I'm looking for words. There are no legs below his knees. What the fuck, don't stare! I look in his eyes. Green. Jesus, they're so familiar, and warmth spreads through me. 

"You got short," I say.

WHAT THE FUCK, why would I SAY that?

To my relief, he laughs. The same old laugh he used to, full of life, joined by a twinkle of the eye. 

"That's a good one," he says, still chuckling. "At least you're not ignoring the elephant in the room. Other people act like it doesn't exist." 

"Jake, please. Junior year, you spread a rumor that I was the world’s greatest sex god. I’m pretty sure I can tease your missing legs.” 

"Granted. You going to let the short guy in or what?" 

"I suppose." 

I hold the door open for him, stepping back and letting him roll into the living room. He looks around the apartment while I close the door, trying to calm the heat that I'm feeling in my neck. I do NOT want my face turning red. God, that'd be so embarrassing. I'm supposed to be ten times cooler than he is now. I am rich and live in the top apartment with a big as fuck flat screen TV, I will NOT give in to my fifteen years of missing and crushing on this boy, damn it. 

Jake is sitting tall with that same smile on, hands in his lap. I really can't help but look at his khaki shorts that hang over his knees and ask, "What happened?"

"Oh.” He looks down at the limbs with a calmer expression. Not sad, but he’s definitely not smiling. “Big blast. My right leg was completely done for, they said they found it on a roof or something. But they almost saved my left. Then they found out my bone was shattered to kaput anyway, so they just sliced them both off." 

"Fuck, wow. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Doesn't hurt anymore. I'll learn to walk on artificial legs eventually if I make enough money for all the therapy and stuff like that." 

I want to give him that money now.

I instead say, “What to sit down? You know, like, somewhere else though.”

He chuckles. “Sure.”

“Awesome. I’ll get us something to drink. Be right back.”

I abscond to the kitchen. I know he can still hear me, so I play it cool. I get us some damn sodas, because I don’t even know if he drinks. My phone vibrates, and I flip it open with a little scowl. 

TG: did you fuck him yet??? 

Groaning internally, I quickly type out a reply. 

TT: Did you confess your undying love for Beaver Boy?

TG: fuck you

Satisfied, I return to the living room where Jake is now on the futon, wheelchair aside. I don’t even question how he got there after a look at those strong arms of his. 

The sodas are kind of ignored, just sitting on the coffee table. I can’t look him in the eyes at first. I don’t know why, but I can’t. I’m afraid he’ll read all of my emotions. Maybe I’m afraid to see the scary past in his. 

When I sit down beside him he says, “Why didn’t you tell me about your parents?” 

Fuck… I sigh, rubbing a hand to my forehead. “I… didn’t want to ruin your deployment. You were so excited.” 

“I would have stayed for you. Somehow.” 

“You weren’t allowed to. I lessened the pain you had to carry when you left.” 

“I had to hear about it from Dave,” he says more quietly. “After all these years.”

“I didn’t even know you were coming back.” 

“I’ve been back pleanty of times! But you had moved out of your old apartment, and I couldn’t find you. I only found you this time because I ran into Dave at the high school. Point is, I would have been there for you. Even if I were away across the world.” 

I don’t really want to argue about it, so I say, “Thank you then.”

He’s silent. “I mailed you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It hurt missing you, so I didn’t read them. But I still have them. Every single one.” I meet his eyes, not so scared now. I didn’t take time to study them when I first opened the door. They’re still Jake’s eyes, but I can tell that he’s seen a lot. Things that normal people shouldn’t see. So I say, “I promise to read every single one now that you’re here.” 

There’s thanks in his gaze, a gentle smile resting on his lips. Then he says, “Tell me everything.” 

I didn't want to tell him. I stare at him, mouth open, searching for words. "Raised Dave," I answer.

"Come on. Details. How are you in this big-shot apartment, mate?"

"Oh. I, uh... I run a porn site."

He widens his eyes. Then laughs. "I darn sure hope you're not giving your body out willy-nilly!"

"Nah. Sometimes I do a few web cam shows. They can look, but they can't touch."

"Oh. Heh-heh, good."

"Don't worry, Jake. This body is reserved for you."

He chokes on air. "Dirk!"

I'm chuckling now. I go in for a risky move and give his leg some type of squeeze. I don't think it's too casual. More of a close touch. His tan skin is just the lightest shade of red under his eyes.

It just comes out, suddenly. I tell him everything I've been through since he left. About healing from my parents' death, about Nanna and everything she did for us. I tell him about her death. About money struggles. I even tell him about the time I sold my body to get money and feed Dave. I don't look in his eyes at that part, so ashamed of myself. I just watch in excitement as his hand places itself on my thigh and gives me a comforting squeeze like the one I gave him.

I tell him about making my website and making a bunch of sex toys that started as a joke between Dave and I at first. But hey, the website brought money, so of course I kept it going. And now life was good. And no, I haven't had any relationships since Jake left.

When I finish, I look in his eyes. He stares back, face somber. His hand squeezes my leg again. Then he says, "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks... So, uh... How was it overseas and stuff? Or is it classified? Did you kick butt?"

He finally smiles again. "Heh. Well, the first time it was all right and dandy. Everything was new, and I met some amazing people. It was great. Came home and had some time with my grandmother. Went back again the following summer. Had my first beat down then. Even damaged one of my ears from an explosion. It's crazy over there, I tell you. This one time, one of the gangs attacked our base. And... I had this good friend, and..."

I don't like the distant look in his eyes. Like he's lost or something. I say his name, but he keeps staring at the air as if there's a message in it that I can't see. I say his name louder, and it causes him to flinch, look at me, and then cover his eyes with a hard shiver. "Sorry..."

When we were younger, my top priority was to make sure Jake would never hurt. I feel that now. I wrap my arms around him and bring him into my chest, smoothing a hand through his hair. I remember now that Dave said Jake came to the class to talk about PTSD. He must have it real bad. He doesn't cry, but he keeps shaking, and his fist is clenched in my shirt as if he needs to be anchored from the scary memories.

"If it means anything, I'm proud of you too," I murmur.

"You didn't let me reply," he whispers.

"When?"

"The first time you left. You said something to me, then just hung up. And never talked to me again."

Fuck. Yeah. I remember. I gulp and say nothing, running my fingers through his hair.

Jake lifts his head, stares at me again. He leans in. I catch a hand to his cheek. Feel his chapped lips press into mine. Mine close on his upper lip, his closing on my lower one. His hand is on my neck, another on my side, still gripping for that needed anchor to keep him sane. I rub my fingers in his hair, still trying to sooth him, even while kissing him. Carefully, I open my lips, pressuring him to do the same. When he does, I press in for more, and soon there's a pattern. Our lips smack together, slowly, again and again. He lets out a soft hum as my tongue slips against his, and I hope he doesn't taste or smell the beer in my mouth.

This is all I've wanted for over fifteen years. I've wanted his care, his love. My tongue retreats from his mouth to leave kisses on his lips again. As much as I want a make out, I want to make sure he knows I care. That I'm not doing this for the pleasure, but because I've been obsessed with getting his affection for so, so long.

When we part, I love the sound of his soft panting, because I'm the one who did that to him.

"So..." I sigh, smiling at him. "Is that a 'me too?' You know, to the thing I said to you before I hung up years ago."

He nods. Smiles breathlessly.

My hip vibrates again. My smile is more apologetic as I open my phone to check the text.

TG: did you get the d?

TT: I got the lips.

TG: cool

TG: me too

TT: Winning.

TT: Now make out with your boyfriend while I make out with mine.

TG: you got it

I toss the phone behind me so I won't be bothered again. Jake grins and touches my face. Then his lips are mine again. And with the way he kisses me, I think they'll be mine from today on out. I wonder how he feels about smuppets...

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed? c:


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